No Matter What
by watermelyn
Summary: What happened last night changed everything.


**In my personal canon, Seamus' family is very religious and homophobic and he sort of struggles with that. So this has religion in it, and I don't know what kind of warning I should put but I hope I don't offend anyone...**

**Oh, and the religious beliefs expressed here are not necessarily mine. **

**This is set during HBP, slash as always, aaaaaaah I don't know what else to say. I doubt I'll offend anyone with it but if I do, sorry.**

**-Karo**

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Dean and Seamus clicked the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express five years ago. Seamus remembers the day vividly; how he'd walked into a compartment he thought to be empty to find a skinny black boy sitting there with his head down, all alone. The boy, tall for his age Seamus could tell, had been focusing on a small leather-bound book in his hands, holding a pencil and drawing intently.

'Oh hello! I'm Seamus Finnigan,' Seamus had said amiably as the boy looked up startled at the strong and loud Irish accent coming from such a tiny child. 'Are you drawing? My mam says I can't draw to save my life, but I reckon I could maybe draw a person or a flower, possibly. Come on then, let's see. I bet you're better than me, though that's not hard,' Seamus had babbled away happily and Dean had shared his sketch book timidly with the titchy little blond boy, something he'd never done before. From that moment on they were inseperable; you never saw one without the other. You could always hear Seamus before you'd see him, but you could spot Dean from far away because of his height. People joked about how they were polar opposites, and it was true; they balanced each other out perfectly. They still do.

Now, it's different. They are still the best of mates, like Harry and Ron. It's not the same though, because Seamus has a problem, one he knows neither Harry nor Ron have. He reckons Dean doesn't have it either.

Really, he has more than one problem. First and foremost is what happened last night in the shower while everyone was sleeping. He didn't mean for it to happen—absolutely not. He'd just gotten back from a tutoring lesson with Terry Boot and he realized he desperately needed to wash. He smelled because he'd accidentally exploded a cauldron in Potions earlier, but that isn't important. Wha is important is what happened while he was lathering his body with soap and relishing the hot water.

_It was just a regular, everyday wank,_ he reminds himself now as he tries to concentrate on his Transfiguration theory in class. _Just a wank._ Except it wasn't _just a wank_ because… Seamus pushes the thought away forcefully and desperately attempts to focus on his work. He can't though, because there is another problem.

His mother. Well, his father too, but he knows it's his mother he'd fear the most if they ever found out the truth.

_The truth is it was just a wank!_

He is lying to himself.

His mother. Leanne Finnigan, née Lynch. She is paranoid, over-protective and extremely religious. There was a time Seamus was too, though not to Leanne's extent. He'd go to mass every Sunday in the small chapel in Hogwarts for practicing students. He'd pray every night, he'd thank God silently for his food, his health, for his family and for Dean. He believed. He always had; he'd never questioned God or the church or his mother before. Up until very recently (last night, actually), he'd worn a simple wooden cross around his neck under his school robes everyday. Dean knew and seemed not to care. He'd never asked Seamus about his religion just like Seamus had never inquired about his. They understood each other, and knew that their religious beliefs were private things.

But last night, after the shower, something changed in Seamus. For the first time in 16 years, he'd taken off his necklace. Dean had seen it lying on his friend's bedside table this morning and had said nothing. Seamus is grateful; he doesn't know how to answer the questions that are surely swirling in Dean's mind, begging to be asked.

Seamus barely notices that everyone else has gotten up and left the class for lunch; he is too far gone in his thoughts. A hand—strong, dark, graceful and masculine—touches his shoulder and gently shakes him.

'Sea? Coming to eat?' says a deep voice, one that never ceases to amaze Seamus.

'Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking,' Seamus says quietly, getting up and gathering his things scattered on the desk. They begin walking towards the Great Hall slowly, for Sea is still mostly lost in thought and isn't moving very fast. Only 'mostly' because Seamus is very aware of Dean walking beside him, and that every now and then their hands brush. He flinches each time, and when Seamus looks into Dean's eyes he sees worry and confusion hidden beneath the chocolate depths.

'Are you okay?' Dean says and Seamus closes his eyes at the sound of his voice, so concerned.

'I'm fine.' A lie. Seamus knows Dean has picked up on it. 'I'm not very hungry. Want to skip lunch and go to the common room?' Dean nods confusedly, but follows his short friend to Gryffindor tower. Being sixth years, they have two free periods this afternoon and they waste it on quiet chess games and awkward silences. Seamus isn't used to this; he usually always tells Dean what's on his mind, but today he just can't bring himself to. Really, he doesn't even know what's on his mind.

They are both staring into the fire almost dreamily, when Seamus shakes himself and decides to break the silence.

'Dean…' He doesn't know how to phrase the thoughts that are tumbling through his head a hundred kilometers an hour. 'Do you pray?' he blurts out.

They've never spoken about this before.

'Not really,' Dean says, refraining from adding the _why?_ that Seamus knows is on the tip of his tongue.

'I do. Or, I used to,' says Sea quietly, looking intently at the crackling fire.

'Used to?' Dean inquires, looking up to watch Seamus breathe deeply in the armchair beside him.

'Up until last night.' Seamus sighs, his breath shaky.

'What changed?' There is the _why_ Seamus was expecting. He doesn't know how to answer without scaring Dean away.

'Do you believe in God?' Seamus says instead of answering. He reaches up to rub his necklace reassuringly with his thumb but lowers his hand awkwardly when he realizes it isn't there.

'I never really thought about it.' He pauses, thinking. The silence stretches into minutes.

'I suppose… I suppose there may be a higher power out there, but I don't know if I could give it a specific name.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm not quite sure. Let's see…' Dean has never been able to put his thoughts into spoken words like Seamus can. 'I think that this power, God if you want to call it that, isn't necessarily a person, you know? It could be a force, a feeling. Love.' Dean grimaces at the corny sentence, but Seamus doesn't notice and nods. 'Your God, or Jesus, he may have existed as a person at one point, and though He's gone now, it's his message that lives on, right? The whole 'Love thy neighbour' thing and everything else. That's the higher power, I think. Love.' Dean nods his head slowly as if trying to process his own words.

'Love… no matter what?' Seamus whispers, looking at his friend with wide, almost frightened eyes.

'Yes. No matter what,' says Dean loudly, with conviction. 'Sea, what's this about?' He says this quietly, genuinely concerned for his friend. Seamus is acting to strangely and he doesn't know what to think of it.

'No matter what…' Seamus repeats, mostly to himself. 'Would you love me, no matter what?'

Dean looks up, startled. He's never said that he loves Seamus before. It just isn't something you say to your best mate. He does love Seamus, he's just never spoken the words before.

'Of course.'

'What if…' Seamus gathers all his Gryffindor courage, but still he sturggles to get his question out. 'What if I was g-g-gay?'

He's sure of it now that he's said it aloud. He had been planning to say something else (he can't remember what now), but it had just come out, albeit in a strange sort of stutter never before heard by either boy.

Dean has a small knowing smile on his lips. 'Finally,' he says, chuckling. 'Yes, Sea. No matter what.'

'Finally!' Seamus exclaims, aghast. 'You knew?'

'Since we were 13.'

'And you didn't tell me!'

Dean laughs, shaking his head. 'I figured it was something you had to discover for yourself.' Seamus sighs sadly, looking into the hissing flames once more. They stay silent for a few long seconds, each boy thinking deeply.

'My parents…' Seamus murmurs, searching the fire for answers he knows won't be there.

'…will have to learn to accept it.'

'You know they never will. They're too set in their ways. My mother will disown me and my father will kick me out.'

'Then you'll come stay with me.' Dean sees a single tear rolling down Seamus' cheek, startling him. He's never seen a man cry before.

Seamus makes up his mind. So what if his mother and father don't see the world the same way he does? He can still believe in God, right? He can still pray and wear his cross. But now he knows, he really does, that God will love him _no matter what._ Straight, gay, what-have-you.

'Dean…' he murmurs quietly.

'Yeah?'

Seamus takes a deep breath and gazes straight into Dean's deep brown eyes.

'I really want to kiss you right now.'

He prepares himself for the rejection that is sure to come. At least now there will be one less _what if_ because he knows he would have regretted never saying anything or acting on his desires. Even if he only realized everything last night, his feelings for Dean (and oh how very strong they are at the moment) were always there. He knows this now. He had always just convinced himself they weren't real, that they didn't exist. Seamus feels free now, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, though he is still waiting for Dean's reaction. _Probably a no,_ he thinks bitterly. He steels himself for the horrible words he knows he's about to hear, or worse, the sight of Dean backing away slowly with a look of disgust on his face. Dean can say he'll love Seamus no matter what, and that may be true, but the fact remains that Dean is straight and Seamus is not.

'Finally,' Dean says with a wide, gleeful gets up so he can walk over to Seamus' chair and leans in happily for the most awkward and most wonderful kiss of his short life. He pulls back after a few seconds of bliss to observe Seamus' stunned expression. The blond's green eyes are wide with shock and joy, and the sight causes Dean to laugh.

'I said I'd love you even if you were gay, but what I meant was especially if you were gay,' he says, his beautiful voice sending shivers down Seamus' spine. Sea cocks an eyebrow up at his friend (boyfriend?), trying to contain the shrieks of pure joy and excitement that are attempting to burst out of his mouth.

'Finally?' he says in a calm voice that doesn't reflect what is going on inside his brain at all. 'And you didn't tell me?' His lips are occupied for another moment.

'Eventually I might have given you a—_oh, mmph_—nudge in the right direction,' Dean says between kisses. He pulls Seamus up from the chair so he doesn't have to bend down quite so much. He kisses the shorter boy once more, sweetly and tenderlym wrapping an arm around Seamus' waist and lifting him up on his tip-toes. This is something neither Gryffindor has ever felt before and Seamus cries out in protest when Dean takes his delicious lips off his.

'Come on,' Dean murmurs, 'let's go tell the others.' And he leads Seamus out of the deserted common room, their hands intertwined lovingly, to find their friends.

'Wait!' Seamus cries out suddenly and sprints up the stairs to their dorm. Barely a minute later, he returns, skipping happily to Dean and grabbing his fingers again. 'Let's go.'

With his free he reaches up to rub his cross and smiles, genuinely happy for the first time in a long while.


End file.
